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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28076085">awake</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/withinyourselfinstead/pseuds/withinyourselfinstead'>withinyourselfinstead</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A.C.E (Beat Interactive Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - War, Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 11:54:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,954</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28076085</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/withinyourselfinstead/pseuds/withinyourselfinstead</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes a few weeks for Donghun to differentiate the other man’s face from among the throng, everyone’s hair equally shorn and their faces clean shaven. He notices him in the absence of other elements - things are quieter, less hectic when he’s near. He doesn’t fret like the others, or make jokes with an air of bravado like the younger boys in the company, who do so to distract themselves from the fact that death constantly looms over them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kim Sehyoon | Wow/Lee Donghun</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>awake</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It takes a few weeks for Donghun to differentiate the other man’s face from among the throng, everyone’s hair equally shorn and their faces clean shaven. He notices him in the absence of other elements - things are quieter, less hectic when he’s near. He doesn’t fret like the others, or make jokes with an air of bravado like the younger boys in the company, who do so to distract themselves from the fact that death constantly looms over them. </p><p>Donghun wonders if the other man is silent because he has lost all hope. The thought frightens him.</p><p>He finally hears his name being called among the tents as the men take their breakfast one morning, huddled together and stiff in the cold. He almost misses it, the courier’s voice muffled in the morning fog. Donghun turns his head and watches as Sehyoon receives his letter. He doesn’t see any hint of emotion, and wonders if it could be from a girlfriend; maybe writing to say that the relationship was over. </p><p>Donghun isn’t sure why he automatically assumes this, and is distracted by a letter of his own being placed in his lap. He greedily tears it open, desperate for a hint of home - a reminder that, somewhere in the world, he was once truly safe.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>---</p>
</div>It’s with curiosity that Donghun notes he’s been assigned with Sehyoon. He’s actually enjoyed scouting, the company’s current position far enough away from the front line that the shifts had become opportunities for idle chatter and reflection. A chance to escape the constant scrutiny of superior officers and the oppressive anxiety of the group as whole. He hopes that Sehyoon will be at least a tolerable conversationalist, if not engaging.<p>He’s surprised when they slip into an easy silence, their feet following the familiar route. Donghun stops and turns to the side to pull out his pack, and is amused when Sehyoon offers him a light. He passes another cigarette into Sehyoon’s hand and they puff away companionably, the cool night air and tobacco sharp and comforting in Donghun’s lungs. </p><p>On a whim, before he can stop himself, Donghun asks Sehyoon who wrote him. As if he was following a script in a drama, Sehyoon reaches into his inside pocket and pulls out the folded letter. The creases are already worn, the paper thin, having obviously been unfolded and folded many times. Donghun almost breathes a sigh of relief at the realization that Sehyoon is a lot like him.</p><p>Donghun can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed when Sehyoon starts reading the letter from his sister, the moonlight strong enough that they don’t have to use the lighter. There is the familiar talk of the home-cooked meals they miss making for him. How Sehyoon better be working hard to make his country proud, written in a teasing tone. </p><p>Donghun feels a slight burn across the bridge of his nose, behind his eyes. It would be obvious to any of the men who were hundreds of miles away from home the words that were written between the lines - <em>please come back alive</em>. So that you can eat mom’s cooking and we can hear you laugh again. </p><p>They talk about their mothers and food. Donghun learns that Sehyoon is afraid of cats. That he misses the smell of winter back home. Here, the smell of too many foreign plants makes him sick to his stomach. Donghun talks about how he can’t wait to grow his hair long again. They laugh.</p><p>Donghun doesn’t know why, but he’s glad that it ended up being Sehyoon’s sister, and not a girlfriend.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>---</p>
</div>The armies resume their movements with greater fervor as the winter finally thaws. The camps are now abuzz, the horror of battle now within fifty kilometers, if not closer.<p>The company moves down into a valley, crossing a river that bisects the mountainous slopes on either side. Confident that it would be safe enough to do so, and desperate to escape the adrenaline-fueled clamor of camp, Donghun sneaks beyond the rear force one night for a view of the water - never mind that he can still see the fog of his breath for how cold it is.</p><p>He wonders if he should be ashamed that he isn’t alarmed by the sudden rustling of leaves and branches behind him. Maybe he is the one who has already given up, uncaring of whatever forces might snuff him of his life in the late of night.</p><p>Sehyoon mutters an apology, and unabashedly relates that he tailed Donghun without offering an explanation as to how or why. Donghun just looks at him. Maybe a part of him already knew and was going to let this happen. </p><p>They were going to die any day now, wasn’t that right? </p><p>Sehyoon’s lips are chapped when they kiss. Donghun wonders how the world could be so still and quiet around them when he feels as though everything threatens to rush out of him, split him at the seams - the anguish, the horror, the longing. The bark is sharp against his back as Sehyoon rushes him against a tree, and he relishes the pain, feeling like it might be what he needs to jolt him awake from this long dream.</p><p>He pulls Sehyoon’s hands underneath his linen shirt. He sucks in air through his teeth at how cold they are, how rough they are, and Sehyoon makes a noise like a snarl in response. He makes sure Donghun doesn’t have any breath left after that.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>---</p>
</div>Another week passes before Donghun wakes up.<p>It feels as though his head is full of sharp stones, his ears filled with liquid mercury. He can’t hear, but he feels the echoes, the booming earth as it trembles and shatters around him. All he sees is darkness as he’s thrown to the side, his face planting into the ground, crushing his nose and all sense out of him.</p><p>When he lifts his face, he sees another shell hit the assembly of vehicles, supplies, and men who were in front of him in the convoy. The burst of fire that spreads outwards blinds him momentarily, and all he sees then is hell.</p><p>He squeezes his eyes shut, crawls backwards to get away from the heat though he doesn’t realize it, his body moving for him. All he knows is that he is too young, didn’t get a chance to start living yet.</p><p>Something stands over him and lifts him under each arm, slinging his upper half upside down. The movement hurts and is surprising enough that Donghun cries out. He tries to use his arms, tries to look around, but all he sees is black.</p><p>He wakes up seconds? Minutes? Hours? A lifetime later, and feels a familiar prod in his back. The familiarity of a tree confuses him. Donghun doesn’t understand the sudden appearance of this friend, this tree that supports his back.</p><p>He tries to cry when Sehyoon approaches him, but only a slight push of air manages to escape his lips. He sits there paralyzed, and it feels permanent, entrapping him - he can’t do anything.</p><p>Sehyoon’s face is covered in blood, drenched in it, and it scares him. He feels suddenly a loss that is so much deeper than the loss of his own life. He reaches out a hand, though of course, it’s only the ghost of that desire that reaches out and touches Sehyoon’s face. The black-brown mess of dirt, blood, and flesh. Donghun’s hand is as good as useless.</p><p>He watches as Sehyoon ties a thick strip of fabric tightly around something dark and wet that seems to be attached to Donghun at the waist. A part of him whispers, almost jokingly, that it’s his own leg. </p><p>Donghun can’t fight the heaviness of his eyelids when they suddenly swing shut.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>---</p>
</div>Donghun spends the morning retching over the toilet, his mother attempting to smooth his now moderately long hair, soaked in sweat, from his forehead. He refuses breakfast, and with shaky, cold hands puts on his dress uniform. The smell of the starch makes him feel too clean. He thinks that might be the greatest paradox of life - only the cleanest, pressed uniforms are assigned to the dirtiest, ugliest, most depraved men.<p>He stares at his haggard expression in the mirror. He thinks the age, the pallor, the lifelessness he sees there is the only perfect thing that exists. </p><p>He walks to the churchyard. Performs the movements mechanically, as if observing himself. He laughs from somewhere above himself, at how a shell of a man can still continue to move and operate, putting on a performance of dignity.</p><p>The effort of filling the graves feels good. He presses the blisters that form on his hand, thinks about how pain has a very different meaning to him now that he is no longer a boy. No longer asleep.</p><p>Donghun meets Sehyoon’s eyes briefly as they walk out of the church, but he doesn’t allow himself any more than that. Doesn’t know if he can handle it yet, now that there are only a handful of men from their company that continue to walk the earth. When he had met Sehyoon at the train station, he saw flashes of all their faces - streaks of sun-kissed brown, wide smiles, boys who were younger and taller than him with cheeks still chubby with baby fat - and he had almost collapsed.</p><p>It’s autumn again, the evening falling quickly on them as they walk together, Donghun in front of Sehyoon. They pass through a small side street, already deserted, low lights visible in some of the upper windows. Sehyoon grabs the back of Donghun’s arm somewhat roughly.</p><p>Donghun stops and lets Sehyoon walk into his back, the movement sudden and awkward. Sehyoon doesn’t let go of his grip, but rubs his scarred cheek against the fabric of Donghun’s uniform. They breathe.</p><p>Donghun slows down to let Sehyoon walk beside him after that, their gait lopsided to accommodate Donghun's limp. They reach the coast, and Donghun still doesn’t say anything, but he finally turns into Sehyoon and hides his face, the darkness of the evening hiding them from the streetlamps.</p><p>Sehyoon doesn’t do anything to comfort him, and that’s somehow what comforts Donghun most of all. He reaches into his breastpocket to take out his tags. They feel cold and heavy in his fist. </p><p>With two steps, Donghun hurls it over the cliffedge. He hears a yell come out, and it’s swallowed by the crash of the surf below them. His tags disappear from sight before he can see them fall into the water. He feels something rip inside him.</p><p>Donghun crouches and hugs his knees as Sehyoon comes forward and throws his own tag off into the void, less ceremoniously, but solemn. Sehyoon stands at his side, lets a solitary finger trace a path through Donghun’s hair.</p><p>A part of Donghun dies (was it ever living to begin with?) that evening.</p><p>Donghun finds himself following Sehyoon back to his rented room instead of the bar, and he is glad for it. Glad that Sehyoon has come.</p><p>Donghun loses himself on top of Sehyoon - or, rather Sehyoon lets him take what he needs. Their first time is rough, spots of blood on the sheets, but Donghun feels a little more life flare in him with the pain. </p><p>Sehyoon is unimaginably hot, burns through him. He tries to keep up, but it’s too much, going to drown him. Sehyoon pauses and lays Donghun back down onto the white sheets, blows air over his face. He opens his eyes and all he sees is Sehyoon.</p><p>“Run away with me.”</p><p>Donghun doesn’t know how to explain that he can’t run away from himself.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading :) Please feel free to come talk to me on <a href="https://twitter.com/wthnyrslfinstd">Twitter</a>, ask me a question on <a href="https://curiouscat.qa/wthnyrslfinstd">Curious Cat</a>, or check out my <a href="https://wthnyrslfinstd.carrd.co/">Carrd</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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